Save the Saviour
by SnapesSonDracosBoy
Summary: DRARRY, SEVERITUS,Harry Potter is abused and hurt. What will his 6th year at Hogwarts bring him? New friendships and unbelievable relationships occur. 'School started again in two days. Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry - his sixth year - Harry thought as he set to scrubbing the floor. 'I'll be 17 this year, then he can't hurt me anymore.' Enjoy!
1. Prologue

Save the Saviour

Epilogue

Harry Potter, of No. 4, Privet Drive, Surrey, England, lay on a tiny, thin mattress, or rather, huddled on a tiny, thin mattress in the cupboard under the stairs. His slight frame seized and shook with the force of his nightmare, and the infant sized, blue, threadbare blanket did nothing to subdue the fever he was suffering with.

His emerald green eyes, now dulled to a murky swamp green, were shut tight against the outside world, filled with pain, tears leaking down his gaunt face.

The welts on his back and torso also wept, oozing a sickening smelling substance and burning with every minuscule movement.

BANG! Harry startled awake, crying out when his back hit the solid wall. BANG BANG BANG!

It took him, in his bleary state, a moment to realise the racket was coming from above him, rather than from the door.

Dudley Dursley, Harry's whale sized cousin, was leaping up and down on the stairs, right above Harry's cupboard.

"Wake up, Potter! I'm hungry. Make breakfast or I'll eat you!" The obese boy laughed - not a pretty, innocent sound, more of a malicious, evil cackle.

Harry groaned as the thumping continued, this time down the last few stairs and past his cupboard door, before the door to the living room slammed open and the T.V was blasted loud enough to wake the whole of Surrey.

A hideous 'so called' comedy blared through the speakers, the comedian ridiculing the minorities while the audience laughed along, Dudley's the loudest of them all.

The onyx haired boy under the stairs took a steadying breath, testing the pain in his ribs, before heaving the door open and crawling out.

A swift kick from behind, however, made him land on his bruised face, dirtying the pristine tile floor.

"Get up, you useless piece of filth! And clean that mess up!" With a shove to the back of his tender neck, smashing Harry's poor head back onto the floor, Vernon Dursley joined his son in the living room.

Climbing up from the ground, using the kitchen doorframe for leverage, Harry limped into the kitchen.

Food. Right. Eggs, bacon and mushrooms for Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and half a grapefruit and a glass of water for Aunt Petunia.

Harry set to work, frying first the bacon, then adding 6 eggs and 20 mushrooms to the pan. While they were cooking, he snatched a ripe grapefruit from the fruit bowl and sliced it deftly in half, wrapping the rest and placing it into the fridge. He then filled a pint glass with filtered water from the fridge and started serving up the three plates of food.

Of course, Harry had no breakfast, only the fat off the cold bacon when Vernon and Dudley had slobbered all over it, the burnt bits of egg (for which he had to dodge a flying fist), and the rind of Aunt Petunia's fruit.

He stood in the corner, hands behind his back like a good little slave, until they had finished, only to collect their plates with nary a 'thank you' and wash them up, sneaking the leftovers into a napkin and shoving them deep into Dudley's oversized hand me down trouser pockets.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, "I thought I told you to clean this up?" His voice was low and dangerous as he glared down at the boy in question, beady eyes glinting in dissatisfaction, and a beefy finger pointing down at the dried up blood on the landing.

"Y-yes, sir." Harry stuttered, nerves getting the best of him, "I'll do it now, Uncle. Sorry."

"Not good enough! I told you to do it half an hour ago. Tardiness is a punishable offence, you know that, don't you boy?" A wicked gleam shone in the mans eyes now, and Harry new better than to protest.

"Yes, Uncle. Sorry. It won't happen again."

"It had better not, or you'll be sleeping in the garden until that ruddy school of yours starts again, you hear me?" And with a swift kick to his ribs, the man waddled out the door, to his car and down the road to work.

School started again in two days. Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry - his sixth year - Harry thought as he set to scrubbing the floor. 'I'll be 17 this year, then he can't hurt me anymore.'


	2. Friends?

Hey guys! This is an AU to the HBP and will include Weasley/Hermione/Dumbledore bashing, a massive plot twist, Drarry and Severitus. This is the first chapter of StS. Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to leave a review to tell me what you think!

Save the Saviour

Chapter 1 - Friends?

Kings Cross station was always very busy this time of year, especially platform 9 3/4. Young witches and wizards queued up before the Hogwarts Express, exchanging tearful goodbyes with their siblings and parents before boarding the red and black steam train to Hogsmeade station in Scotland. There, the first years would be led across the Great Lake by Rebeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper and Keeper of the keys at Hogwarts, to their first view of the castle.

Harry, on the other hand, stool alone, trunk beside him as he waited to board the train back to his sixth year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

His friends, the Weasleys and Hermione Granger, were nowhere to be seen, presumably already having gathered in their usual compartment.

Harry shuffled forward, trunk and Hedwig, his snowy owl familiar, in tow, and rearranged himself, ensuring all evidence of this summers abuse was hidden away from prying eyes.

"Hello, Harry. How lovely to see you here," came a whispy voice beside him. Luna Lovegood, in all her bizarre glory, stood to his right, staring dreamily ahead, a copy of this weeks Quibbler clutched tightly to her chest.

"Uh... Hi, Luna," Harry stammered, lost for words at the sudden appearance of the odd girl. "How -," he cleared his throat, making a note of it's tightness and vowing to get a potion for it as soon as possible. "How're you? Good summer?"

"Oh! Haven't you heard? Death Eaters attacked Hogsmeade yesterday. I can see why you're reluctant to get on the train. I can't say I'd much want to if it weren't for the Nargles keeping watch," she babbled in her light, sing-song voice. "Sorry, am I boring you?" Her usually faraway eyes latched onto his own tired ones now, and there was a clarity within them, seeming to see all of his secrets and thoughts.

"Not at all! Sorry, Luna. Just tired - had a long summer is all." Harry managed to muster up a smile, though how sincere it looked, he'd never know, as Luna just smiled blissfully back at him.

At that moment, with Harry trying unsuccessfully to blink the sleep from pain clouded eyes, the whistle of the train echoed throughout the station, signalling five minutes until departure.

Harry turned back to Luna, about to ask whether or not she needed any help with her trunk, only to find the girl missing. Looking ahead, he saw the crowds had dissipated and the white-blond haired mystery was busy stepping onto the train.

Hurrying forward, so as not to be left behind, Harry, too, stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express for his penultimate journey to what he considered his home. He found he wasn't really in the mood for idle chit chat, and instead chose a compartment all to himself, where he was free to think and do as he saw fit.

"Anything from the trolley, dear?" Harry jumped, nearly bashing his head against the window as the lady with the snack trolley appeared. Had it already been an hour and a half since he'd boarded the train?

"No, thank you ma'am. Nothing for me." Again he plastered a smile on his face, locking the door as it slammed shut at the old witch's decent. "Will I ever get some peace and bloody quiet?" He grumbled under his breath.

His mind wandered through his memories of Hogwarts up until this point, and this time his smile was real, although it soon turned bitter and full of regret when he thought of his 'friends'.

Ron and Hermione hadn't written to him all summer. Yes, there had been that time in second year, but that was Dobby , an over eager House Elf's fault. This time was different - they hadn't even waited for him at the station.

Harry, shaking himself from his increasingly maudlin thoughts, decided to change into his school robes. They should be at Hogwarts within the hour.

Arriving at Hogsmeade station, Harry pulled his trunk down from the rack overhead and heaved it towards the nearest exit, stepping down and joining the line of people waiting impatiently for the Thestral drawn carriages.

Harry could see the creatures, of course, having witnessed death far too many times for somebody the tender age of sixteen. They were grey, skeletal beings, with holes where their eyes should be and thin, leathery wings.

As Harry drew nearer to the awaiting carriages, he spotted a familiar red shock of hair.

"Ron!" He called. The youngest Weasley boy spun round, catching sight of Harry before leaning down to whisper something in his companions ear. Hermione, too, turned, set eyes on Harry, then pivoted, hurrying to the next carriage without a word.

"Hermione. Ron! Wait!" But there came no reply, as the carriage was quickly drawn away by the frightening looking Thestrals.

Ten minutes later, Harry sat alone, bumping up and down over the gravelly path to Hogwarts. Each jolt sent searing pain throughout his broken body, and he grit his teeth to keep from crying out, avoiding drawing unwanted attention to himself.

He was, however, already getting far too much attention and scrutiny, from Draco Malfoy. The aristocratic silvery-blond haired boy was staring at his most hated enemy with a ferocity no one but the Malfoys could achieve. Although, if you looked closely enough, you could see a slight furrowing of his brow and a fleeting look of curiosity pass through his grey eyes. Draco Malfoy was concerned.

They arrived at the gates to Hogwarts without much fuss, passing through the gates, proving their identities via a wand checking charm and proceeded up the stairs to the magnificent castle entrance, where they were admitted and ordered by an old witch by the name of Minerva Mcgonagall to go to the Great Hall to the Sorting Ceremony and accompanied feast.

There were eight new Gryffindors (five girls and three boys), all of which looked as nervous as the next to be joining the fabled Gryffindor table, and in extension, house.

Harry applauded with the rest every time someone was Sorted into either Gryffindor, Hufflepuff of Ravenclaw, and booed, as was expected, at any Slytherin newcomers.

By the end of the ceremony, his body ached and burned, and he longed for the comfort he knew he'd receive in his dorm room.

It was another two hours before Harry Potter finally fell into bed, fresh sheets caressing his battered body and a cover that would keep him warm. He slept without nightmares that night. Instead, his dreams took him down a completely different path, filled with steel grey eyes and silky soft hair running through his long fingers, as he gripped the back of his accomplices neck and -...

Harry woke with a start. 'What the hell?!'

Draco Malfoy was having a similar dream, although his consisted of emerald eyes and jet black hair. He, on the other hand, didn't shy away from his roaming imagination, instead letting the scene play out fully. If someone where to open his bed curtains that night, they would have seen a small smile grace the lips of the Malfoy scion.

It was magnificent - warm bodies against each other, lips locked together as desperate hands roamed.

He woke feeling refreshed and a little bit dazed the next morning, and dressed quickly, eager to see the object of his obscure joy. Today was the day he would allow himself to love again.

Harry, after taking a cold shower and throwing on his school robes, ambled down to the Great Hall on his own. Ron and Hermione were still acting strangely, not uttering a single word to him since their arrival.

He couldn't summon any anger or sadness, so settled instead for apathy.

On his leisurely way to breakfast, he bumped into someone.

"Morning, Potter," Malfoy chirped, a small able etched onto his pointed face.

Harry, taking this as a taunt, and blushing as he remembered the nights unfounded events, glared. "Shove off, Malfoy." And, not for the first time, Harry stalked away, clenched hands buried deep inside his pockets as he fought to hold his tongue.

"P-potter! Come back..." Malfoy trailed off. He was flummoxed. Draco Malfoy, for the first time in his life, had genuinely tried to be nice to Harry, and it had been thrown right back in his face.

Something was wrong.


	3. Revelations

This is the second chapter to Save the Saviour. I am not, nor will I ever be JKR, but boy I wish I was! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Don't forget to leave a review to let me know what you think! :)

Save the Saviour

Chapter 2 - Revelations

Ron and Hermione came in twenty minutes after Harry, for breakfast, obviously having just had a heated snogging session, judging by their flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Harry looked up as they entered, about to signal where he was so they could take their usual place beside him, when he remembered the rift that currently divided the trio. His mouth drew into a tight, thin line as he watched them take their seats next to the rest of the Weasley clan at the other end of the large table.

Owls came and went with the morning post, one of the school's tawnies dropping a copy of the Daily Prophet into Harry's bowl of Wizard Oats, making it gloopy and damp. He watched in disgust as the slop fell back into his bowl, and pushed the uneaten mess away.

Gasps echoed throughout the room and Harry, having not yet had a chance to even read the headline of his newly clean paper, looked up to see countless eyes glued to him. Suddenly feeling self conscious, he made to hide behind the Prophet when he, too, let out a guffaw of surprise.

'Harry Potter, Gay?' Read the flashing headline.

'- Potter was reportedly seen making eyes at none over than the blond Slytherin Prince on the carriage to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Reporters say he was later seen in close proximity to the young Malfoy heir in Hogwarts' school halls. His 'friends', Hermione Jean Granger and Ronald Bilius Weasley, declined to comment, stating only that he was 'a liar and probably a nancy boy anyway'. "Not seen him with a girl since I met him-." "He just isn't who he used to be, I'm afraid." The poor girl then shook her head sadly and refused to comment further. Having said that, his - former - friends have been very distant from Mr. Potter this summer, not sending any post to the mysterious Boy-Who-Lived at all.

That's all from me.

Rita Skeeter'

Fury coursed through Harry's veins, and he yelped as if struck, standing and storming from the Great Hall, right into Severus Snape.

"Watch where you're going you dunder-... Potter." The stoic man's usually cold exterior seemed to soften for a moment as he took in the upset boy's demeanour. The look was fleeting, however, and Harry could be sure whether he'd been imagining things.

"Excuse me, Professor," the boy bit out, making to move past the tall, black clad man.

"Not so fast, boy." Harry flinched, his body jerking at the way he'd been addressed. Snape's eyes narrowed as he caught the slight movement, and made a note of it within his mind. "Here, a Calming Draught." He held out a small vail of a blue-green substance to the shaken boy.

Harry's head shot up from where he'd been glaring hatefully at the floor, wishing Rita bloody Skeeter dead, and latched onto Snape's own, coal black orbs. Reaching out to take the potion, hesitantly, as if it were a cruel trick, Harry murmured a soft 'thank you' before downing the potion and hurrying away towards his first class of the day - Care of Magical Creatures.

Hagrid was his usual bubbly self, sharing countless facts and stories about his beloved Blast-Ended Skrewts, which they'd be handling next lesson. They were apparently related to both manticores and Fire crabs, being a mixed breed of them both. They also could grow to be around ten foot long, Hagrid had said.

Harry's next lesson was double Potions, with lunch between each period. Snape was - almost - his usual evil self, taking away fifty points from Gryffindor when Neville Longbottom managed to melt a cauldron. He was, unusually, avoiding Harry, seeming not to even notice his presence.

Instead of his usual barbs and taunts towards the boy, he brushed past him, not even deigning to mention the inconsistent colouring of his Euphoria Inducing potion, and looked away any time Harry caught his intense gaze directed at him, or more specifically, his hands.

Harry's hands were shaking with the force of the pain in his back and ribs, which were so sore he could barely focus, hence the botched potion. He'd yet to summon the courage to ask Madam Pomfrey, the resident Healer, for a pain reliever, fearful of the probing questions she was likely to ask. No one could know. Not Dumbledore or Snape, and especially not Malfoy, for the latter two would surely ridicule him and the former's look of disappointment would make Harry's insides shrivel up with shame for being caught off guard and weak.

"Potter," Snape called as class filtered out. "A moment, if you will?" He raised an eyebrow in what seemed like a genuine question as Harry stood before the foreboding professor, hands behind his back and head bowed in submission, as he was trained to do by both the Dursleys and Dumbledore.

"Yes, Sir?" He said softly, suddenly afraid.

"Potter... Look at me." Snape's voice was... gentle? Almost pleading as he reached out to tilt Harry's chin up with his potion stained forefinger.

Harry looked up, locking gazes with Snape, and blinked.

"You have your mother's eyes," he whispered, a small, rueful smile gracing his sallow face.

"I-I do?" Harry was befuddled. Snape was acting like a normal person, not his usual, preferred, snarky self.

"You do. The same colour and the exact same shape. You're very much like Lily, too. I'm sorry I never noticed, child."

An apology from Snape? Had hell frozen over? "I... Thank you, Sir. That means a lot." Harry bowed his head again, this time hiding the tears that threatened to fall at the mention of his mother. He had never heard much about her, only James, his father. The only memory he had of her was accompanied by a flash of green light and a piercing scream that haunted him. He always longed to know more about her, and was thankful when Hagrid had gifted him with a wizarding photo album of his parents, but again, it had more of James that of Lily.

"I'd noticed your friends have been aloof with you. I also noticed your hands."

Harry's head shot up, a red flush washing up his neck to the tips of his ears at the mention of his last friends and ailment, which he thought he'd hidden well enough. "I'm fine," he growled, forgetting about Snape's niceties from before. "Now if you don't mind, I have lunch to attend." And with that, he turned tail and ran out the door and to a hidden alcove, where he knelt and wept. Wept for his mother, his lost friends and for the agony, both physical and mental, he was suffering from. He wept for the fact that he'd been caught.

Hot tears poured from his eyes and landed with a soft 'pitter-patter' on the hard stone floor. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he failed to notice the hurrying footsteps approaching from behind.

"Potter." A figure knelt before him, placing steadying hands on his shoulders as he fell forward into oblivion.

The infirmary was warm and very bright. That was the first thing Harry noticed when he came around. He was in the bed closest to the door, curtains drawn round and tucked under a soft while duvet. A throat cleared to his left and Harry, startled, spun to face the person sitting beside him, yelping as he twisted, causing his healing welts to open and pour down his back, staining his gown a sickly yellow.

"Hold still. Madam Pomfrey!" Snape called, standing and approaching Harry's bedside. Harry flinched away from the touch, further confirming what Snape had seen and injuring his seeping wounds. Harry wiped his sleeve across his eyes, tears burning the corners as they clouded with intense pain.

"What's the problem, here?" Pomfrey entered the shut off space, arms loaded with potions, balms and bandages, prepared for whatever may have occurred.

"His wounds have split - he'll need wrapping and a few blood replenishing potions, please, Poppy." Snape turned to the Mediwitch, issuing orders and instructions on how to use and apply various potions.

"Yes, yes Severus. I'm quite aware of what I'm doing, thank you very much." She bustled to Harry's side, and to his dismay, vanished his gown with a flick of her wand, leaving him in only his underwear and exposing the full extent of his injuries. Neither Madam Pomfrey nor Snape were shocked at what they saw, having already gone through that when Harry first came in to the infirmary that morning. "Now lean forward, if you will, Mister Potter," the kindly old witch instructed, opening a healing salve and pasting it liberally onto his chest wounds, and to the ones on his back when he complied. "Very good. Well done," she crooned.

Snape stood back, scrutinising the Mediwitch's work and giving pointers now and again on how to apply each salve and potion.

"Now take this please, Harry," Pomfrey said, pushing a double dose of blood replenishing potion into Harry's weak hands. Harry took it, making a face at the sock like taste and swallowing thickly.

"Thank you, Madam. I feel much better now," Harry lied.

"Nonsense, Potter. The potions won't have taken effect yet. Lay back and stay still until they really start working." Harry knew an order when he heard one and obeyed immediately, settling back into the fluffy pillows and sighing with content as the anticipated pain upon impact didn't come. "Thank you."

Harry was too worn out from the day's events, that he didn't even register Snape's words, instead falling into his first fully restful sleep in six and a half weeks, having been slipped a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep.

Severus and Poppy stood over the sleeping child for a moment, before nodding to each other and exiting to Madam Pomfrey's office.

"What did you see, Severus?" Poppy asked as they entered the spotless room, referring to the morning's events and his discrete use of Legilimency.

"He's been badly abused, I'm afraid. By his family, none the less." His voice was weary and he pinched the bridge of his long, hooked nose, sighing deeply before continuing. "He lives in a cupboard under the stairs. His uncle, in particular, is the worst, using all sorts of implements to abuse the boy, his favourites being his belt and his own fists. His cousin taunts him endlessly, and plays a delightful game aptly named 'Harry Hunting'. This involved him and his ghastly group of ruffians chasing him down, catching him, and beating him to a bloody pulp with whatever they can get their filthy hands on." He stopped, gritting his teeth before going on. " Petunia, his aunt, Lily's sister - despicable woman - starves him."

Poppy gasped, covering her downturned mouth with a frail hand as her eyes filled with tears of horror and anguish. "Oh, that poor child!"


	4. Dumbledore

Hello and welcome to a new chapter of Save the Saviour! Again, I am not JKR and I'm not getting any profit from this story, only the gratification of others pleasure. Enjoy!

Chapter 3 - Dumbledore

Albus Dumbledore was in his office when he got the floo call. Harry Potter was in the hospital wing.

He smiled sedately through the fire as Poppy Pomfrey told him of the abuse the 'poor boy' had endured, all the while cursing his pathetic pawn. Albus had told the boy time and time again not to be caught or show any signs of weakness, yet that was exactly what the boy had done.

Stepping through the fireplace into the infirmary, he spotted the prone Potter boy, blissfully sleeping, all comfortable - the complete opposite of what he himself had told him to be. His usually twinkling blue eyes filled with anger as he glared at Harry, taking in what he could see if his injuries and vowing to make him pay.

"Ah, Headmaster. Thank you for joining us," Pomfrey said, walking up beside Dumbledore.

"Us, my dear?" His eyes now held their usual gentile gleam.

"Us. I was the one who discovered the boy." Severus Snape had also joined them, stepping out from behind the curtain around Harry's bed.

"My boy!" Dumbledore declared by way of greeting. "Thank you both for bringing this to my attention. How long until he is fit to leave?"

"I would say a week, Headmaster, but it is ultimately up to you." Pomfrey tutted, her soft gaze settling on Harry's sleeping form.

"I shall take him to my office when he awakens - for examination." Dumbledore then turned with a nod to them both, and left, leaving if unspoken that they would alert him when Harry came round.

Harry woke two hours later, his mouth dry with sleep and his head fuzzy, but not full of remnants of nightmares, for he had none.

"Poppy!" Snape, who was still at Harry's bedside, called out. "Inform the Headmaster that Potter has awoken, please."

Headmaster? NO!

"No, sir! Please... Not yet," Harry pleaded.

"Is there a problem, Potter?" Severus raised a languid eyebrow, becoming suspicious as to why the child seemed afraid.

"No! Well... Yes." He furrowed his brow before sagging in apparent defeat. "No, sir."

"As you were then, Poppy." Snape turned to the witch, who had entered the curtained off cubicle to confirm that Harry was, indeed, awake. At her colleagues dismissal she left to make the floo call to Dumbledore.

Harry was frightened. He knew this would eventually happen, hence keeping himself to himself. The Headmaster was going to be livid, and Harry would suffer for it.

Twenty-five minutes later, in Dumbledore's office, Harry knelt before the vengeful man whose power radiated from him in crackling waves.

"I'm sorry, sir! I tried. Honestly, I did." Harry stated, not dating to move, even to look at his master as he plead his case. "He noticed - he sees everything, Professor! I thought I'd hidden it."

"Enough." The Headmaster's voice was so quiet, Harry had to strain to hear him. "No more excuses. Get the dagger, boy... NOW!" He added as Harry hastened to do as he was told, standing quickly and moving to a hidden draw where his master kept his torturous devices. Harry retrieved the weapon he was to use upon himself today: an 8 inch, straight edged dagger with with a shining ruby crystal at the helve.

"Sir, I-..." Harry made one more attempt to save himself.

"Not another word. Self preservation is a Slytherin trait, and you above all know how I despise those cowards." The old man paused, as if considering something of utmost importance, before ordering Harry to pierce his gut to the hilt and twist until the glorified knife had turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees.

Harry's eyes widened at the task, but he did as he was asked, getting up his Gryffindor courage, and plunged the dagger deep inside himself. He nearly passed out at the pain, but Dumbledore urged him on.

"Twist it. Do it, boy." Dumbledore's maniacal eyes shone as he watched the boy scream, crimson blood a stark contrast to his alabaster hands. "Yes. That's it. Good boy!" He stepped over to the agonised child, placing a withered hand atop his head as if praising a puppy.

Harry thought he was going to die. The pain he was in surpassed anything he'd ever experienced. At first, he screamed, but at the satisfaction this seemed to give the Headmaster, but his lip as he twisted the dagger around in two swift movements, before dragging it out and flinging it at the monster's feet.

Blood poured from his abdomen and Harry was almost sure he had hit an artery, as the copper smelling substance sprayed, covering both his and the front of Dumbledore's robes.

"Heal yourself." The cold words were the last thing Harry was aware of before he collapsed into a puddle of his own foul blood.

He did, unconsciously, obey the Headmaster's last command, although he would always bear a scar the size of a Galleon under his left rib cage.

He woke up uncountable hours later, stuck to the floor by crusty bodily fluids. Harry vanished the mess and, not seeing his master anywhere, took his absence as permission to leave.

On his way out the door, for the second time that day, he collided with a figure, knocking the wind from his bruised lungs.

Snape had been anxiously waiting for Harry's return to the hospital wing, but when, by evening, he had seen hide nor hair of either the boy or the Headmaster, he grew impatient.

After letting Poppy know, he'd gone up to the Headmaster's office, bypassing the stone gargoyle with a muttered 'sugar quills' and ascending the stairs. Before he could knock, however, none other than Harry Potter himself came barrelling through the door as if fleeing from a stampeding herd of hippogryffs, crashing ungracefully into Snape's firm chest.

"Ha-Potter! What has taken you so long?"

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts, disorientated a having bumped into someone so soon after his ordeal. He had hoped to make it back to the hospital wing with pigs encountering anyone, not wanting the questions that were likely to be asked. "Just talking to the Headmaster, Sir."

Snape squinted his eyes suspiciously, sensing that Harry was not telling the truth. "Don't. Lie. To. Me. Now I ask again. What took you so long?" The menacing look on his pasty features made Harry want to shrink in on himself.

He didn't know what to say. 'Oh, my master just made me torture myself, leaving me in a puddle of my own secretion for hours on end, not even bothering to check if I was still alive,' didn't sound very good in his head. Instead he stood his ground, stating once again that he'd been talking to the Headmaster and they had lost track of time.

"Hm," came Snape's cryptic reply, his own mind reeling at the possibilities of what the boy could be hiding. Before he could comment further, Potter had shot past him at an alarming speed for someone so recently injured. "Potter, wait!" But he called out too late, spinning round just in time to see the end of Harry's cloak whip through the closing gargoyle guarded door.

Harry ran until he couldn't breathe, stopping at the entrance to the hospital wing doubled over, shaking hands gripping his knees hard as he struggled to take in short, shallow breaths.

"Mr. Potter! What is the meaning of this?" Minerva Mcgonagall turned the corner, spotting the hunched up child and rushing to his side. "Let's get you back to bed shall we?" She tutted, he crisp voice heavy with disapproval. "Poppy, he's back."

Madam Pomfrey practically flew into the room, taking one look at Harry before ushering him over to his warded off section of the infirmary. She let out a heavy sigh as Harry fell into the bed, slippers still firmly on his feet, and took inventory of his current condition.

Her breathe hitched as she noted a new injury, and her eyes widened at the description written on the magical medical parchment.

"Poppy... What is it?"

"Albus, no! It can't be." And with that, the elderly woman collapsed into a dead faint on the hard linoleum floor.


	5. The Truth

Hello and welcome back to Save the Saviour! Thank you for all your lovely reviews :3 this one is for the guest who requested more Severus/Harry interaction. Now, without further ado, READ ON! :D

Chapter 4 - The Truth

Severus Snape stood for a moment after Harry's speedy departure, his closed fist held up to rap on the old oak of the Headmaster's office door. Before he could knock however, the door sprang open, seemingly of it's own accord, Albus having noticed his presence.

"Come in, dear boy!" The old man called, beckoning Severus over with a stiff hand. "Lemon drop?" He added as Snape obliged to the man's first request, entering the room in one swift step.

The other man glared, making it clear that he did not in fact, want one of the sherbet filled neon yellow sweets. Just for good measure, as the old coot didn't seem to take the hint, he replied. "No Albus, I would not like to lose my teeth this early on in my pathetic existence, thank you very much."

The Headmaster's smile waned as he faltered, his hand hesitating before popping the boiled sweet in his own mouth, sucking leisurely. "Please take a seat, my boy. What was it you wanted to ask me?" The twinkle in his eyes belied the fury he felt towards the man for bringing up his pawn's poor condition.

"I was just on my way to find Potter, is all," Snape said, hands behind his rigid back as he stood before the Headmaster. "He had been gone for hours. Poppy and I were getting worrie-.." He cleared his throat. "-concerned."

"You're concerned about the boy, Severus? Have you forgotten he is James' son?" Albus' eyes twinkled with delight. "You care for the boy, don't you Severus?"

"I do no such thing!" The bat of the dungeons replied indignantly, although in his heart of hearts he knew he was lying.

"And that would be why you say at his bedside for nearly six hours?" Albus chuckled, gleeful at having found Snape's new weak spot. All the more to manipulate him with.

Snape glowered. He knew he cared for the Potter boy - his Lily's son - but he certainly did not want it being public knowledge. He needed to keep up his snarky 'evil bat' reputation, or there would be no respect given to him, even by his snakes. "Good night, Albus." And he spun away.

Back in the infirmary, he was greeted by the sight on a tossing and turning, moaning Boy-Who-Lived, and an unconscious Mediwitch.

Minerva looked stuck. Between the - now two - patients, she didn't know who to help first.

"Minerva, you Enervate Poppy. I shall help Harry," Snape barked, stepping briskly over to the boy. He didn't even notice he had used the boy's first name until he heard a shocked intake of breath come from behind. "Yes, Minerva. I called him by his given name. Now help that poor bloody woman!"

He sat on the bed beside Harry, reaching out a careful hand to brush away the boy's damp hair from his profusely sweating brow. "Hush child. You're safe. You're at Hogwarts, in the infirmary," he shushed gently. What he thought had been soothing words though, seemed to upset the boy further.

Harry woke with a cry of absolute, unadulterated fear, jerking violently away from the unfamiliar touch on his chest, where Snape had moved his hand at the child's return to consciousness.

"Potter..." No response, for the boy's eyes were clouded with a look of something akin to a deep caught in the headlights of a quickly approaching vehicle. "Potter." Still no reply. "Harry," Snape said, more forcefully this time.

At the use of his first name, which he had only learnt about at the start of school, Harry's eyes cleared a little.

"Harry, you're safe. You're with me - Professor Snape - and Madam Pomfrey and and Professor Mcgonagall. We're not going to hurt you." Again, the boy's eyes came into focus a little more and his breathing became even at the reassurances.

Severus took this as a sign to return his hand to its former place on Harry's chest, but when the boy yelled out in pain, quickly took it back as if he'd been burnt. Letting his gut feeling override his reputation, he vanished the boy's too to reveal a snitch sized scar that had not been there before. He felt sick. Who could have hurt the boy like this - in the one place he felt safe enough to call home?

His rational mind flitted straight to Albus, but he dismissed that thought as quickly as it came, faith in the man who had been kind enough to save him from Azkaban never waning.

Draco? The boy wouldn't have the guts, and Snape knew Harry's former friends wouldn't stoop so low, Gryffindor pride and all.

That left Snape with nobody but one of his snakes to blame, and he was loath to do so, having no proof as of yet. Snape knew the boy would never say, and so the only way he would get an honest answer would be to look into Harry's mind.

Staring into Harry's eyes - so much like Lily's, his mind wandered - he penetrated he boy's thoughts and memories, rifling through them until the found the most recent trauma the child had suffered.

*Albus stood, a crazy look in his eyes, as he ordered the loyal child before him to stab himself. The child had pleaded and begged, but to no avail, for the Headmaster showed no mercy.*

Severus, watching through the Harry's eyes as he did as he was told, but his lip to keep himself from letting out a string of profanities. Drawing out of the boy's mind, having watched the scene play out twice, Snape had to fight not to throw up right there.

"Harry... Oh, child." He sat Potter up, enveloping him in a surprisingly warm embrace, as the boy cried into his broad, robe clad shoulder.

"Dear me! Has hell frozen over, Minerva?" came Poppy's surprised voice from behind. She must has woken up whilst he was in the boy's mind.

Snape ignored the infernal witch's comment, instead pulling back from the boy and handing him a crisp new handkerchief with which to wipe his swollen, red rimmed eyes.

"Severus, what has happened?" Minerva was curious to know.

He turned to the two witches, a troubled sheen in his onyx orbs as he relaid the story back to them.

"No! How could he? There must be a mistake-..." Mcgonagall started to protest.

"-There is no mistaking someone's memories, Minerva. What I saw is exactly what happened," Snape growled at the woman, furious at her ignorance, for this had obviously been going on for a long time and she had never noticed. He glared. "He will be resorted."

"What?! He's a Lion through and through, Severus. You cannot take that away from him!" Minerva shouted, her Scottish brogue coming out full force with her level of indignation.

"You have not helped him at all, clearly. He WILL be resorted, and if I'm right in thinking, it will be into Slytherin where he will be cared for and looked after appropriately." Snape's eyes flashed at the end of his tirade, daring the woman to try to change his mind.

"But you need me in order for him to be resorted, and I won't allow it!" Minerva tried once more.

"You will if you truly care for the boy." He knew he was being manipulative, but if it was what it would take to keep Lily's son safe, then so be it.


	6. Classes

Hey guys :) to AureliaLanel, all will become clear! This story is going to take a very big twist in the future, which will explain all that has happened so far.

To the other reviewers, thank you so much for your kind words and encouragement. It means a lot!

ONWARDS!

Chapter 5 - Classes

Severus stayed with Harry until he was fully awake, even then prolonging his departure by insisting he check the boy over himself. The wound had indeed been the result of stabbing oneself with a dagger, as Snape had already known. It had further been clarified by the results from Poppy's medical results from earlier.

"When will you tell the boy?" Pomfrey had asked, after she'd snatched him into her office. Severus responded with a long suffering sigh.

"I will inform him of the turn of events when he is well enough to take the news," he had informed the fretful Mediwitch. The Potions Master had then departed the hospital wing altogether, returning to his private quarters located deep in the dungeons. There, he settled down to think with a finger full of Ogdens Firewhisky after removing his overcoat.

Clicking his slender fingers, he summoned an eager House Elf from the kitchens, requesting from the odd creature a sliced beef sandwich, having not eaten all day. He also asked Winky to have his outer robe cleaned, remembering how Harry had cried into it a while before.

"Winky is doing as Master Potions Master asks right away, sir!" And the green, bug eyes elf disapperated from the room, returning shortly with Snape's requested meal and clean clothing.

Harry was still awake. Having overheard the adult's conversation, he was sick with anxiety. Slytherin? How could Snape have been so sure?

The thought of being resorted into the Serpent's Lair made Harry want to cry; Dumbledore would kill him, he was certain.

Looking down at his old watch, two links too big for his tiny wrists, he saw that it was well past midnight - half past one in the morning, in fact. Breakfast was in six hours, and classes an hour and a half after that. He needed to get some sleep.

Settling back into his fluffed up pillows, Harry closed his eyes, trying to relax himself into sleep. It came after half an hour of flashbacks, his dreams full of headmasters with serpent tongues. Harry slept fitfully that night.

Waking up the next morning, his dry tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, Harry found he had a visitor.

"Malfoy. Come to gloat, have we?" Harry snarled, sitting upright and turning towards the intruder.

"Actually, no. I came to see if you were alright. With no one but the Weasel and the Mudblood to play with, I got bored." Draco smirked, the laughter in his eyes clearly showing he was jesting.

Harry, noticing this, was taken aback. "What're you really here for?"

"I told you. To see if you were okay. I don't know what happened, don't worry! Just that you were missing after first period." Malfoy said quietly, fearful of yet another rejection from the handsome young man before him.

Harry looked into Malfoy's eyes, searching for a clue that the boy was joking, but found nothing but sincerity. "Well, um... Thank you, I guess." He cleared his throat sheepishly. " I'm... I'll be okay." The raven haired boy looked down at his hands, careful to avoid his... What? Enemy? No. That didn't fit right now... Acquaintance's own steel grey eyes.

"Harry..." Said boy's head shot up in alarm. Had Malfoy just called him by his first name? "Harry, I have something I need to tell yo-..."

"-Mr. Malfoy, if you could excuse us for just a moment?" Madam Pomfrey came in, intruding their - apparently private, from Draco's blush - conversation.

Wait. Malfoy blushed?!

Harry's thoughts, thankfully, were interrupted at that moment as Pomfrey gently forced him backwards so he was lying flat on the bed.

"Just a check up, dear. Not to worry!" She traced her wand around Harry's body, touching all of his wounds with the tip until the medical parchment read his condition. "Very well, Mr. Potter. You are apparently well enough to attend classes. Now off with you! You had better get dressed; breakfast is already half way through." Her no nonsense voice filled the room, accompanied by a tut at the thought that the boy might miss out on food.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Harry spied Draco standing a bit away from the curtained off area. For some bizarre reason, he felt compelled to call out to him, telling the boy, who Harry noticed must have been about an inch taller than him, that he would only be a minute.

The tall, straight edged boy made no attempt to reply, not any indication that he had even heard Harry, instead standing with his vaguely muscular arms crossed, his hip jutted out as he stood tapping his smart school shoes lightly against the floor.

Draco Malfoy had been thinking. He had known all his life that he was gay, courting pretty girls only to cement his charming, Silver Prince image. Nobody knew of his sexuality, even the people he was closest to, especially not his father, Lucius Malfoy, who Draco was sure would disown him should he come to find out.

Harry Potter, however, took all that fear away. He was the first boy Draco really felt he had feelings for. The tension between the two had always seemed too forced, and the way his stomach flipped when his eyes latched on to Harry's emerald globes - the way he felt when he was around him - well it could only be one thing. Love.

He had thought it had been hate for so long, convincing himself that he didn't feel anything for the messy haired scoundrel who had in fact stolen his heart, but pure loathing. He'd thought that until he realised there was a fine line that divided the two. The first would make you want to kill the person the feeling was directed towards, the other, want to pretext, cherish and adore them.

Malfoy knew he wanted to do all three of the latter, plus more for and to Harry, and he wasn't going to let himself, or the boy ignore that fact. Not anymore.

The object of his thoughts was now standing before him - fully dressed - Draco noted, pouting. His red and gold tie was askew and his glasses steamed up from his shower. His hair, as usual, stood up in all directions, looking mussed up and... dare he say it? Sexy. He seemed to be waiting for Draco to respond to something he'd said. Perhaps a question?

"Hm. What?" Draco asked, dazed.

"I said, are you coming to breakfast?"

Draco floundered. He'd already had his morning oatmeal and if he were to return to the Great Hall, with Harry Potter no less, the Snakes would start asking questions. On the other hand, he needed to talk to the boy.

"I... Uh-," he stuttered. "Meet me by the Great Lake after dinner? I'll be waiting." And the aristocratic boy spun on his heel, exiting the infirmary without waiting for a reply.

Harry stood for a moment, processing the uncharacteristic request, before making his own way out of the ward, checking he had his wand beforehand.

Once in the Great Hall, Harry sat at the furthest end of he table from his former friends and the rest of the Weasleys. When the bell chimed to signal the start of lessons, he grabbed his bag and made his way to his first class of the day - Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Upon arrival, Harry was surprised to find Professor Dumbledore heading up the class. Slowly, so as not to be noticed or singled out, Harry walked over to the back, left hand corner table. He didn't realise he was on the Slytherin side until Theodore Nott took his place next to him, shooting him a strange sideways glance before getting his books from his dragon hide book bag and placing them neatly on the table before him.

'Shit!' Thought Harry. 'How could I not have noticed? Oh Merlin, he'll slaughter me!' Before he could move to change seats though, the Headmaster cleared his throat, his stony gaze settling on Harry for a moment before gathering the attention of both Gryffindors and Slytherins alike.

Today, according to the writing on the board, they would be revising the disarming charm, Expelliarmus. They were to write a one hundred word essay on the charm and it's uses before the end of lesson - all from memory.

'- and it's scarlet light are used to disarm an opponent. It is not meant to harm, only disable, stopping the dueller for being able to counter attack. The charm was reportedly created by Elizabeth Smudgeling in 1379 where she used it in a duelling contest in Dartmoor, Devon...' Wrote Harry.

By the end of the lesson, Harry had completed the task with time to spare, which he used to revise the Stunning spell they would be discussing next time. Stupefy, with it's red - or blue - light, depending on the caster, was intoned 'stew-puh-fye' and used a single down slashing wand movement. It had two effects, either rendering a victim unconscious, or when it is used on an object, halts it's movements. The charm was apparently also known as a 'Stunner' or 'Stupefying Charm'. That was all Harry got to read, as the bell for the next class rang out through the room - those who were still working on their essays scribbling down their last few sentences.

"Hand your in to my desk please, children," Dumbledore called to the retreating students. Turning back around, Harry being on of them, he moved to the front of class, rolled up parchment held in a shaking hand. Once there, he placed his essay on the rowan wood table as asked, and turned away to retreat again, when the Headmaster called out to him. "Harry..." He stopped in his tracks, faltering at the sound of his abusers voice.

Turning back, he replied. "Yes, sir?"

The headmaster seemed to look into Harry's soul for a moment before dismissing him with a careless wave of his hand and a 'get to class, boy'.

Bewildered, Harry did just that, arriving at Herbology with Professor Sprout two minutes late.

"Ah, Harry. Well enough to join us I see!" The portly woman beamed. "Please, take your spot next to Mr. Longbottom. Today class, we will be taking a look at a species of mobile vines called Venomous Tentacula. Now, now! Less of the screaming, please girls," she admonished, addressing Pavarti Patel and Lavender Brown, both of Gryffindor.

The professor prattled on about the plant's appearance, uses and dangers, so much so that by the end, four people had fallen asleep, ten were reading their own books and two had left. Harry was the only one still focussed, needing his N.E.W.T's in this lesson, among others, to achieve his dream of becoming an Auror.

Lunch was a quiet affair, most people having gone out to the stands to watch the Ravenclaws practice for their upcoming match against Hufflepuff.

Harry decided to just snatch an apple and find the alcove near the potion's classroom - as that was his next class - and rest.


	7. Confessions

This chapter is now UP! Here we are, one of the moments we've all been waiting for. Confession time!

Chapter 6 - Confessions

Harry had just finished his apple when incoming footsteps signalled his third lesson. He scrambled to his feet as the people drew nearer, hiding in the shadows of the alcove he was in.

"Potter?"

'Shit! How'd they see me?' Looking down, he saw that his bag was poking out of his hiding spot, giving him away. Stepping out to face the approaching Gryffindors, Harry made sure his mask was firmly in place. "Yes, Weasley?" He intoned coldly.

Ronald narrowed his eyes hatefully, his wand hand clenching into a fist. "Just coming to see if poor little 'abused' Harry is okay," he snickered, turning to face the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione, who had stepped up behind him at the prospect of an altercation.

"Shut up, Ron. Shut UP!" Harry flushed angrily, the thought of more people knowing, and worse yet not believing him, spiking his uncontrollable magic.

The walls around them started to crumble, and Hermione screamed as a bludger sized piece of debris flew past, millimetres away from her head.

"Stop it, Potter! We all know you're just an attention seeking little liar. This is just more proof!" Ron shouted, gesturing towards the surrounding mess. His own face was turning a hideous shade of puce now, and this time, he did reach for his wand. "Reducto!" The blue light coursed it's morbid way toward Harry, intent on blowing him to smithereens.

Harry, now pulling his own wand free from it's holster, produced a 'protego' shield around himself, narrowly escaping his deadly fait.

"Weasley! Mr. Potter! Lower your wands at once," Snape bellowed stepping out of his classroom in order to find out what all the noise was about. Waving his own wand, he cleared up the mess, sending a Patronus to the caretaker, Argus Filch, letting him know there was a destructed alcove that needed to be reconstructed. "Potter, with me." He then turned to the rest of the gathered Gryffinfors and Slytherins, gracing them all with an unwavering glare before taking one hundred and fifty points from Gryffindor for 'atrocious lack of conduct and house unity'. Severus, after one last dagger towards the youngest Weasley male, grabbed Harry firmly - but not painfully, Harry was surprised to note - by the back of his neck, steering him towards the potions classroom.

Once inside, Snape instantly let go of the boy, turning and locking the door with a wave of his long ebony wand.

Moving to sit behind his desk, he motioned for Harry to take the seat that had appeared before him. "Potter... Harry. What happened?" His voice was stern but not menacing.

"I-I... It was my fault, Professor-" Harry began.

"Is that so? What have I told you before about lying Mr. Potter? Five points from Gryffindor. Now, from what I saw and heard, it was Weasley who threw the first spell - him who taunted you. What was it he said? Ah yes, 'seeing how poor - abused - Harry is'. Am I correct?" His tone and eyes softened, however, at the look on the boy's face - that of a kicked puppy.

"I take it they know, and consequently do not believe you, about the abuse you suffered at he hands of those despicable muggles?"

Harry bit his lip. What was there to say?

When he received no reply, Severus went on to what he had needed to tell the child. "You are to be resorted-," he raised a hand to silence the oncoming tantrum before continuing on. "-into Slytherin, if I am right. And let me assure you, Mr. Potter, I am always right. There, you will be cared for and looked after as if you were any other child; I will not continue to burden you with that goddamned status and responsibility you have lain upon your shoulders. You can be yourself there, Harry. Trust me." He took a deep breath at the end of his speech, holding it for the explosion that was about to come, but, to his surprise, it never did.

Harry closed his eyes. After what had just occurred, being resorted sounded pretty damn good. But into Slytherin? Of course, he knew that was where the Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in his first year, but would he fit in there? Would they accept him after all the animosity from the years before?

These were the troubling questions that flitted through his mind, thoughts racing at a million miles an hour, trying to figure out what to say. 'Would it really be so bad?'

"A-are you sure, sir? I mean... I've been nothing but a nuisance to you for five years. Would you really be willing to accept me?"

Snape sighed, explaining that he'd had to play the part of Death Eater so that the children of the Dark Lord's followers did not suspect him to be foul at play. "After all that has happened these past two days Harry, you still have to ask?" The professor stepped round his desk now, until he was standing in front of the self conscious boy.

Hesitating for only a moment, he wrapped the boy in his arms, offering reassurance one of the only ways he knew how.

At first Harry tensed, the unfamiliar action startling him, but after a minute or so, he leaned into his professor, revelling in the feeling of comfort he was receiving.

A muffled voice from the front of his robe made Severus pull back, holding the boy at arms length as he spoke.

"I think I agree, Professor. Thank you." And he threw himself back into the welcoming arms, breath hitching as he tried to keep himself under control.

Severus, still holding the child to him, lay his pointed chin atop the boys head, humming in his calm baritone as he attempted to calm the boy. It seemed to work, as a few moments later Harry came out from his new favourite hiding spot of Snape's arms, wiping his eyes and murmuring a soft 'thank you, sir'.

"It is not a problem, child. Now wipe your eyes and take a seat - class will begin within the next minute." The Potions Master then transformed his face into it's usual stony mask and flicked his wrist, unlocking the door. Sixth year students piles in, having been leaning in to hear Harry's 'punishment'.

Horrified, Harry shot a look at Snape, who just raised his eyebrows and quirked a knowing lip at him, nodding to let Harry know that there had been a silencing spell cast on the room since they had entered. Sighing in relief, Harry let himself relax into his chair, ready to focus on his work.

Potions class went smoothly, and by the end, Harry even felt cheerful, a slight spring in his step as he left the room. By dinner he was positively glowing at the knowledge he was to be resorted. His mood deflated a little, however, when he realised the headmaster probably didn't know about this new turn of events, sure that if he did, Harry would be dead by now.

Remembering his meeting with Draco, Harry scarfed down the last of his spaghetti bolognese and ran down to the lake, eager to share the news with somebody. When he got there, he was disappointed to find that Malfoy - or should that be 'Draco' now? - hadn't yet arrived.

He sat on the sandy shore of the lake, looking out at the ripping mass, pale moonlight shining down, illuminating his hair as if he wore a halo. The shadows on the right his face his the joy he felt, but Draco approached from the left, having the honour of witnessing Harry's true feelings full force.

"What's got you so chirpy, Potter?" Draco let out a laugh as he swaggered over to the prone boy, barking out a laugh as he jumped, nearly falling into the water.

"Call me Harry... Please?" He didn't know what had made him say that, but Harry was sure he wouldn't regret it. "I have some news."

"Well isn't that a coincidence? As do I." Malfoy sat beside Harry, pulling his knees up to his chest and taking his plump lower lip between his teach, nibbling thoughtfully. "You first."

Harry, not unable to contain himself or his excitement, told Draco how he was to change houses. "Snape says it'll most likely be Slytherin, which I reckon is probably true 'cause that's where the hat wanted to put me in the first place," he blabbed, taking no notice of the slight widening of his companion's eyes. When he finally became aware, he fell silent, feeling stupid. "What?"

"Okay, let me get this straight. First of all you're talking civilly to Professor Snape, and secondly, you chose what house you were placed into? How on earth did you manage that?!" Malfoy exclaimed, aghast.

Harry was confused. Of all the things, they were the first questions he asked? He had really got the wrong end of the stick with this boy...

"Well, I just asked to be put somewhere I'd be welcome - not Slytherin - and the hat said I'd better go to Gryffibdor."

"Merlin, Harry. I've never heard of that happening before." Thinking hard, Draco thought how best to word his next question. "Do you think, say, if you had been sorted into Slytherin, we could have been... friends?"

"Yes." Came Harry's instant reply. He didn't even think - just spoke. "I think, if I had been put in your house, we would have gotten along very well. It was Weasley who told me not to befriend you."

"He what?!"

"Yeah... He told me you were a smarmy git who picked on people and lied to get friends. Guess he described himself pretty well, huh?"

"That little weasel... I-...um, Harry. I need to tell you something myself, actually," Draco began timidly.

"What is it? I know we've not exactly been the best of friends but... I don't dislike you. And besides, you're the only person my age who seems to want to talk to me this year." Harry laughed. If he was being honest, he might even have said he quite liked Draco Malfoy. His dreams of the blond haired menace occupied his thoughts so much lately, it was a wonder he could focus at all.

"I... Well, you see... I'm-I'm gay."

'Well that wasn't what I was expecting...' Thought Harry. "You are?" He asked, curiously piqued. "Why're you telling me this?"

"Because... I think maybe-... Merlin, Harry! I'm in love with you."


	8. Rendezvous

Just a quick reminder that I am not JKR and am not profiting from this story (although it would sure hope motivate me more!) please don't forget to review and let me know what you think! Cookies for everyone that does :3

Chapter 7 - Rendezvous

"You...? Sorry, could you repeat that again please?" Harry stammered, lost for words.

"For Merlin's sake Harry. The first time was hard enough. Please don't make me say it again," pleaded Draco, looking away.

"Is this some kind of sick joke, Malfoy? Because if it is I...I'll -"

"You'll what?" Interrupted the frustrated Slytherin. "Curse me into oblivion? Tell all my friends I'm a ponce, and that better yet, in love with the bloody Golden Boy himself? So do it! I'm not playing, Potter." He sounded defeated, and Harry couldn't bring himself to embarrass the boy any more. Instead, he sat back down, having stood up from shock earlier.

"So... You really like me?" Harry smiled shyly, shouldering the other boy. "I could get used to that, I suppose." The playfulness in his voice forced Draco to turn back around.

"You're not weirded out by all of this?" He questioned, gesticulating to nothing in particular.

"Not really. I mean, for all I know I could be... You know - gay, too. I've been having these dreams you see-" Harry quickly cut himself off, bewildered as to why he'd let that slip.

"Dreams?" Asked the other boy, hope spiking. Could Harry be having similar ones to what he had been having?

"I... Yeah." When he didn't clarify, Draco pressed on.

"The sort where you and I are together?" He said jokingly, hoping that Harry's reaction would confirm his suspicions. He was rewarded when Harry's neck reddened, the heat creeping up his face and over his ears.

"Yeah."

The response was so infinitesimal, Draco had to lean in close to hear. "Me too." As close as he was to the other boy, he could make out the black flecks that adorned Harry's viridescent eyes. He could also, in the pale light the moon was producing, see the fine hairs that graced Harry's face with his change from boy to man. His eyes roamed over Harry's Cupid's bow that dipped between his arched nose and slightly parted lips. The colour the boy had flushed earlier paled a little bow, leaving a rosy pink tinge high on his sculpted cheek bones.

Draco was mesmerised. Never before had he set eyes on such modest beauty; long, fluttering eyelashes and dark, wavy hair curving around Harry's angelic oval face. Bottle green eyes locked onto his, and he leaned forward, feeling Harry's warm breath against his own bitten lips. His breath hitched at the thought of what his companion might taste like. Would it be minty and cool, or warm, like freshly ground black coffee?

Leaning in he captured Harry's lips possessively, bringing an elegant hand up to caress his soft cheek, his other hand tangling in the other boy's unruly hair.

Harry, of course, was the one to break the kiss, drawing in a deep fortifying breath. Contrary to the punch in the face Draco thought he was about to receive, Harry leant back in, this time laying his cool forehead against Draco's, revelling in the electric sparks that seemed to fly between them.

'Is this what I've been missing out on all these years?' Harry thought to himself, thinking of all the love and care he'd never received, but really should have. The lack of the warm, cosy feeling left him feeling deprived, starved of affection, apparently taking it wherever he thought he could get it, with regards to Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindor house.

This though... This felt real - passionate and deserving. He pulled back for the second time, gasping the sweet nectar into his oxygen deprived lungs.

"Wow, Harry. You're fucking brilliant at this," Draco told him with a soft exhale, laughing lightly as his heart soared.

"I could say the same to you... Draco," Harry growled seductively, launching himself at the surprised silver haired beauty, pinning him down in the sand as the lake's ripples reflected the moonlight onto them, beads of white, ethereal light dancing between them as if from a muggle disco ball.

After a long moment of silence, the boys staring into each others eyes, Draco spoke. "I really do mean it Harry. I love you. So much so that when we fight it hurts me - makes my stomach to backflips and me want to throw myself before you, apologise and beg for forgiveness."

"Well, well, well. Malfoy, a romantic? Who would have thought it?" A slow, sardonic clap echoed around the perimeter of the Great Lake, startling to two boys.

Ronald Weasley stood, this time alone, smirking towards the two entwined boys. "And Potter? Fraternising with the enemy... I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would just love to hear about this." This time the redheaded boy shot a knowing look towards Harry, who visibly flinched, panic clouding over his eyes.

"Harry? What is it - are you okay?" Draco asked frantically as the bespectacled boy drew in on himself, shaking from head to toe.

"Please, no!" He whispered, seemingly trapped in his own personal hell. "Don't! I'm sorry, please!"

"Harry!" Draco shouted now, begging the boy to respond. He too was beginning to panic now. 'What do I do?' He thought to himself. 'Snape! He'll know what to do.' With that thought in his mind, Draco turned his back on the freckled intruder and spoke softly to his companion. "Harry, it's okay. We're going to go and see Professor Snape. He'll help you. You'll be alright, love. You'll be fine."!Malfoy reassured the terrified boy - and himself - throwing Harry's too thin arm around his shoulders and helping him to stand, practically dragging him up the hill to the castle and down through the dungeons.

Once outside the professor's quarters, Draco knocked thrice, the way only Slytherins knew, to let the Potions Master know he was there.

It took only seconds before the door was flung open, and Snape, dressed in a crisp white button down shirt and usual black slacks, appeared before them.

Taking one look at Harry, Severus knew immediately what was ailing the child. He was suffering a flashback, and a pretty bad one at that.

Ushering the stiffly held boy inside, he turned to his godson. "Thank you, Draco. You may leave Mr. Potter with me. I assure you, he's in safe hands."

Draco frowned, wanting to help, but at the stern look his godfather threw him, left after explaining what had happened down by the lake, skipping over the part where the two had kissed.

"Thank you, child. Don't worry - I shall look after Harry."

"I know you will, Uncle Sev. Thank you." And he turned, heading to his dormitory where he slept peacefully, dreaming of hot, wet lips and steamy green eyes.


	9. It can't be

Hello and welcome back to all my lovely followers! This update should be very interesting ;) don't forget - review, review, review!

Chapter 8 - It can't be!

Back in his quarters, Severus guided the shaken boy over to the black leather sofa that lay in the middle of the living room, opposite the warm, crackling fire, and summoned a mug of strong, sweet tea. Handing it to Harry, which he took with trembling hands, nodding his thanks to the professor, Snape sat beside him, pulling him into a side embrace and holding him close with a strong arm.

"Ignore what Weasley said, Harry. He has no idea what he's prattling on about, the fooling imbecile." Searching for the right words to say, Severus rolled up his shirt sleeves before pocketing his wand. "I know about Dumbledore - or rather, the monster the man has become. You're safe here, with me, and you will be even more so once you're placed into a new house. I pray to Merlin it is Slytherin. That bastard won't be able to touch you then; he'll have to kill me first." He dark haired man informed the green eyed boy.

Harry sipped his tea in silence, taking in all that his professor was saying, humming and nodding at appropriate intervals.

When it appeared Snape had finished, Harry finally opened his mouth to speak. "You don't understand, sir. He'll kill me if I'm put there, and I honestly don't think anyone would be able to stop him - even you. He's too powerful..." Tears pooled in his bright eyes and he took in a desperate gasp of air, a panic attack coming on quickly.

Noticing Harry's sudden change, Severus summoned a Calming Draught and tipped it to the child's lips, massaging his throat to help him swallow the gloopy slime.

"Well done. You're doing well. Breathe in... and out - that's it. Good boy."

Coming back to himself, Harry blushed in humiliation. 'I can't believe I've let myself become so weak!' He admonished himself scornfully.

"He-he's evil. I don't know what I've done to deserve all of this. Well..." He laughed. A sour, bitter bark. "I do actually. I get people hurt, or worse, killed. I mean look at mum and dad - Cedric, Sirius! I may as well just kill my fucking self!" He exploded, angry tears pouring down his drawn face, leaving sharp, wet lines in their wake.

"Harry, no!" Snape growled, standing to face the distraught boy, who had leapt up at the beginning of his anguished outburst. "Do not say such foolish things. None of this is your fault. Now listen to me. You. Are. Not. To. Blame." Taking Harry by the shoulders, he gave him a firm shake before gathering him to his chest, whispering reassurances and stroking his damp, sweaty hair, rocking the boy gently from side to side.

An hour later found Harry asleep in Snape's spare room, exhausted from his upheaval. Slytherin green curtains around his bed shut Harry off from the world, charmed to alert the professor if Harry were to wake or suffer a night terror. Should the alarm sound, Severus would be there, ready to help calm the boy.

Sure enough, midnight dawned and with it came a scream. The alarm rang through Severus' head and he instantly rose from his desk, where he had been marking the 'blasted dunderheaded' first years potions assignments.

Running to the room in which Harry resided, Snape stopped short. He could hear the boy, yes, but he could hear him pleading with somebody. Somebody Severus had not let in.

Opening the door a crack, he saw the back and long, white beard of Albus Dumbledore.

'Shit!' Was his immediate reaction, as he stepped back, searching his mind for a clue as to what to do.

"Please, Sir! I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Noooo..." The accompanying scream was piercing in both pitch and volume, making Snape want to run in and stand over the child, protecting him from harm.

Straining his ears for the Headmaster's low voice, Severus was horrified to hear a whispered, but hate filled 'Crucio'. Unable to hold himself back a moment longer, the adrenaline fuelled man grabbed the nearest object to him - a hefty whisky glass - and launched it at such force towards the man, that upon hitting its target, smashed, blood spraying over the thick silver carpet.

Startled, Dumbledore, who should not have been able to do so within the walls of Hogwarts, apperated away.

Pulling himself together - 'goddamn it Severus, get a hold of yourself!' - Severus lunged towards the unconscious form of his charge, kneeling before him and checking his pulse. It was ragged, faint and fluttering, but there.

"Come on, Harry! Wake up, son." 'Son?' Chided his intruding conscience. 'He's not yours, Severus. You've no right to call him that. No right! You've done nothing to deserve the boy, you imbecile.'

"He's mine! I care for him as if he were my own son - my own flesh and blood. And dammit he should have been mine! Mine and sweet Lily's." He sobbed, still checking the boys for any physical wounds. "Harry. I'm going to get you checked out so-... child. Bear with me."

Reaching into his trouser pocket, he pulled out a ring. Inside the perimeter of the ring were runes, and a large emerald glimmered against the silver band. Making sure he had a tight hold on Harry, Severus slipped the ring on, Portkeying them to the entrance of Malfoy Manor where they landed with a soft thump, disgruntling the Malfoy's albino peacocks.

Standing quickly and brushing himself off, Severus placed his hand in the groove in the centre of the door, inciting a spell used to identify himself, and was gratified when the door unlatched, letting them in.

"Lucius!" He called, once he'd made sure that both he and Harry were safely inside, the door locking behind them.

Hurried footsteps approached, coming from above and, as he descended the elegant, spiral staircase, Lucius Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks, staring openly at the sight before him. "Is that... Potter?" Asked the austere man. He had much the same appearance as his son, aside from the fact that his white blond hair reached far past his shoulders, down to the middle of his straight, stiff back.

"Yes. I don't have much to say, only that Albus put him under the Cruciatus Curse. I got a blood sample from him - don't ask how. I need to borrow your lab. Something isn't right." Severus rambled. "Take Potter and keep him safe!"

Lucius Malfoy was beside himself. After all these years of trying to capture the elusive boy, Severus Snape had caught the young Potter.

No. Contrary to popular belief, he would not hurt the child, and neither would his master.

Voldemort had only ever wanted the boy to aid him in his defeat of Dumbledore, since he'd found out the old coot was harming his students. The young man was powerful, that was what attracted him.

He was not, if fact, an evil, sadistic maniac. He was, however, slightly troubled - unhinged, one might even say.

Taking in the boy's pale pallor and small stature, which was wracked with tremors and jerks, Lucius transfigured the rug the boy was laying on into a large four poster, tucking the child in with another lazy flick of his wand.

Once that was done, he sent a Patronus to his Lord, asking him to come to the manor as soon as he could and to bring a vial of anti-crutiatus nerve damage elixir. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, Tom Marvolo Riddle entered the large Malfoy home.

If he was suprised to find Harry Potter sleeping in a large bed in the middle of Lucius' entryway, he didn't show it.

Instead, the tall, snake like figure ambled over his loyal servant , handed him the potion and sat on the edge of the boy's bed. "What happened Luciu-...?"

He was cut off by the slamming of a door and Severus, who came barrelling out of the laboratory with a small vial of amber liquid and a look of terror etched across his pale face.

"Grindelwald. He-he's alive."


	10. Emrys

Hey hey hey! Thank you all for your kind words and comments :3 sorry for the wait for this chappie - I'm ill :( hope you like and review review review!

*-* equals parseltongue/snake speaking

Chapter 9 - Emrys

Voldemort, if it was even possible, paled, as did Lucius.

"Severusss. Are you ssure?" The serpentine man asked, addressing the sick looking professor.

"Positive, My Lord. He was the last of his line; there's no one else it could be. The worst of it though is that he... Oh Merlin... He's running the bloody school!"

"Albus?" Questioned Lucius, stunned. "But... It just doesn't make sense. Dumbledore defeated him, didn't he?"

Snape sighed. He had a lot of explaining to do. "Grindelwald was, indeed, supposedly killed by Albus in March of 1998, but it would seem that is not the case. We need to get him away from Hogwarts. We have to kill him."

It was Voldemort's turn to sigh now, an agitated huff of hair exiting his fanged mouth. One could be sure that, if he'd had any, he would have been running his hands through his hair in frustration at the situation.

"How should we approach this, Master?" Lucius queried, looking to his long-term mentor for answers.

After a long moment of silence, the man hissed his response. "I have a few ideass. We mussst approach this carefully - Grindelwald is very powerful. I sshall write you with my planss. We musst be sssecretive about thisss." He stood expectantly, turning to face the door.

Taking his actions for what they were, both Severus and Lucius bowed to their Lord, who then swiftly departed, exciting with a crack of his stiff long robe. "Goodbye Luciusss, Sseverus. Be careful, my children."

Had Harry woken up at that moment, he most probably would have fallen back into a faint, the Dark Lord's departing look on of sincere commiseration - a somber smile.

When he did wake up, half an hour later, it was with a groan of pain and disorientation. "What? Where am I? Snape!" He yelled, noticing Lucius Malfoy's presence.

Severus, who was thankfully nearby, rushed to subside the boys fears. "You're at Malfoy Manor, Harry-" he paused as the boy sat bold upright, searching for his wand which was, to his suprise, exactly where he'd left it. "-Don't panic - you are perfectly safe."

Harry shot his professor a sceptical look, eyes widening as he properly took in his surroundings. "Wow..."

"Thank you very much, Mister Potter. I do take pride in my not-so humble abode." Lucius smirked, watching the boy from the corner of his steely eyes as he took everything in. "Tea, anyone?"

In the living room, which was vast and full to the brim with all thins green, silver and black, the three sat, talking amiably. Snape was perched on the edge of a plush silver sofa clutching his coffee - he'd declined the tea - in his hands, which were slowly beginning to stop shaking. Harry was stretched out languidly beside him. Opposite them, Mr. Malfoy sat, legs crossed over one another, on a matching love seat.

"We need a plan. The Dark Lord should mail us soon, then we can work on how to put it into place," Lucius said, braking the somewhat awkward silence that had suddenly fallen upon them.

"Wait. So Voldemort is going to help me - us - with this? Isn't that a little... uncharacteristic of him?" Harry chimed in, having been informed of Grindelwald's tenure as the headmaster.

"That is indeed correct, my boy." Came a high, amused voice from the doorway. Voldemort stood in all his glory, staring down at the three gathered before him.

"Fucking hell. I'm gonna have to get used to this aren't I?" Harry said, low enough that he thought he'd not be heard.

"Language, Harry. And yes, you are." The snakey man replied amusedly, taking a seat on the sofa adjacent to the one Harry and Severus were taking up.

"So... You're not going to kill or hurt me, right? Cause I mean it's gonna take a bit for me to trust you, you know Voldie."

"Voldie?" The Dark Lord laughed. "I have to say I've never been called that before - at least not to my face. To answer your question, no. I shan't lay a harmful finger to you child, not a wand, except to sting your behind should you become too impertinent."

"Sorry..." Harry apologised bashfully. "And thanks"

Having discussed the plan for over three hours, the four occupants of the manor were suitably exhausted. Harry, his bed having been transfigured back into a large, thick rug was falling asleep against Snape's shoulder. Jolted by his teacher standing, he nearly fell flat on his face. Luckily his oh-so-Slytherin self preservation kicked in and he managed to hold himself back, bleary eyes - fogged with sleep - rapidly blinking to wake himself up. He smiled apologetically to his company, blushing at the near embarrassing moment.

"Come, Harry. It is high time we returned to Hogwarts - we don't want people noticing our absence. Breakfast begins in forty five minutes and you need a semblance of sleep, if you are to be a competent student today.

Helping the shattered child stand, they left the manor, thanking Lucius for his generous hospitality and Voldemort for his help. Harry also added thanks for 'not killing me'.

Back safely - or not so - at Hogwarts, in Severus' quarters, Harry fell into his bed fully clothed, falling asleep as soon as his weary head hit the plump pillows.

Severus didn't sleep that night, instead opting to pour himself a drop of burning whisky and conjuring a triple strength Pepper-Up potion. He had too much to think on, but even so, needed to be energised enough to teach.

It seemed only a second before Harry was woken, and not by Snape. A soft, faraway hissing voice was talking to another, bickering about who got to use the light. Curious, he slipped from the bed and wandered out to the main room, which he'd never really had the chance to see, having been wrapped up in high states of emotion the only times he'd been there.

Instead of finding two figures however, he saw only Snape, who was standing before what looked like an empty fish tank and chuckling. Creeping over, Harry peered over his professor's shoulder to see what had the usually sour man so amused.

"Harry," Snape addressed the boy, making him jump. "This is Emrys and Lancelot. Emrys is a black male milk snake - lampropeltis triangulum gaigeae - and Lance is a male rough green snake. His scientific name is opheodrys aestivus. Although in the wild you would never come across the two together, they are quite compatible, which is why I hope you'll bring Emrys here for a visit now and again."

"Excuse me, sir?" Harry asked as Severus removed the black snake from his vivarium.

"Here. He's yours now... Take good care of him for me." Handing the boy the medium sized serpent, Severus smiled and the look on Harry's face. It was one of pure content as the reptile slid happily up to rest upon his slender shoulders, tongue flicking out to smell his new keeper.

*Hello, Harry Potter. So you are to be my wizard now, hm? Well, aside from Snarky Snape over there, I'd have it no other way,* the snake hissed into his ear.

Having long ago realised he could communicate with snakes, Harry was not surprised when the beautiful creature spoke, and he could understand him. Snape, still somewhat unused to the fact, was staring at Harry expectantly, eyesores raised in question. "So, what does he think?"

"He said - *oi! 'He' has a name, you know.* - that, apart from you, he'd have no one else to have him be their familiar." As an afterthought, he tacked on a very grateful 'thank you, sir'.

"That is quite alright Harry. He had many protective qualities; use them wisely. Now, you had better get showered, changed and up to the Great Hall before your tardiness is noticed. Breakfast has begun.


	11. Parseltongue

First of all I'd like to say thank you for your kind reviews and keep em comin! Secondly, I'd like to wish the late Severus Snape a happy 57th birthday :3 here it is - chapter 10! Enjoy :D

*-* is snake speech :)

Chapter 10 - Perseltongue

Walking up to breakfast with his new companion, Harry felt a strange surge of confidence overcome him. With Emrys on his shoulder, he felt as though no one could touch him. He knew he would be protected with the snake by his side, keeping watch for any harm directed his way, hissing reassurances in his ear when he needed them.

"Mr. Potter. May I have a word?" Harry turned to have the owner of the stiff voice - Professor Minerva Mcgonagall.

"Yes, ma'am?" Was his polite agreement to her question.

"Your resorting will be held this evening before supper. Make sure you are present please." The stern woman carried on her way to her classroom, having finished her breakfast of eggs benedict.

"I will be. Thank you!" Harry called after the retreating feline animagus.

Receiving no further reply, he turned back towards the Great Hall, settling down to his own meal of American pancakes, syrup and bacon, his usual goblet of pumpkin juice at the side. He also nabbed a fresh looking red apple to put in his bag, ready to enjoy during his break between Charms class and Potions.

Heading into Charms with a smile on his face, Harry chose a seat near the front, on the Ravenclaw side of the room. He had taken in upon himself to fully disassociate himself from Gryffindor, and all things they held claim to.

Because of this, Harry wore no tie and spent the whole of his first class attempting to charm his Gryffindor badge into the Hogwarts logo, sans motto. Successful in his attempts, he beamed up at his professor, Filius Flitwick, who grimaced back, confused but seeing what Harry didn't care to see - a whole house of either smug or sneering lions.

Harry pain them no mind, instead leaving the unfinished class to tend to his apple, which his stomach had been grumbling for the last ten minutes. Taking a bite, he let the juices trickle down his chin, which is how he looked when Draco Malfoy spotted him.

'Merlin. Did anything the boy do make him look unattractive?' The blond haired prince thought to himself. 'Apparently not.' His heart fluttered as he noticed Harry's new badge. He prayed to all the diety's who would listen that the dark haired boy got placed in his house, then they could show people their true feelings towards each other.

"Morning, Potter. I knew you'd change your mind about Gryffindor one day; what took you so long?" Malfoy taunted, feeling guilty but showing no external remorse, the Slytherins around him jeering and egging him on.

"Piss off, Malfoy." And Harry shoved past - mock roughly - in the direction of Potions. He knew it was all a front, but seeing Malfoy the way he had for so many years put his hackles up.

Harry didn't know exactly how he'd fallen for the Slytherin, only that it had just sort of... Happened.

Whenever he thought of the only person he'd shared a passionate kiss with, his already overactive mind went into overdrive. The way his silver hair fell, a frame around his flawless face, made him want to rip the other boy's clothes off, just to see the beauty that lay beneath them. How his mouth parted slightly when he finished talking, and the way his eyes held humour only Harry could see - that was just for him - made his heart swell.

His cheekbones were perfectly sculpted, as if carved delicately by a Roman artist, his eyebrows shaped into a constant, slight frown that only deepened when he focussed, tilting downwards ever so slightly, not a hair out of pace. Harry loved how Draco's tongue poked out when he concentrated on a particularly difficult potion, how he complexion was so smooth and soft. He'd felt it with his own hands... His own mouth.

He didn't think he'd ever get over the Veela-like beauty the boy possessed, and he found he didn't want to, either.

*You're in love, aren't you?* Emerys' diamond shaped head to speak into Harry's shell of an ear.

*Yesss. I have no idea how, though...* came Harry's hissed reply as he bit his lip, avoiding looking into Malfoy's eyes, should he be a secret legilimens.

Malfoy couldn't breath, the way Harry had spoken - hissed - just then, seeming to stop his swollen heart.

'That has got to be the biggest turn on in the history of ever.' The tall, handsome young man said to himself. "Holy Merlin."

Potions went well, with Gryffindor losing seventy points and Slytherin gaining ninety five, which Harry was secretly happy about.

The wit-sharpening potion they were brewing was easy enough, Harry found. It included ground scarab beetles, which had to be mixed with ginger root and armadillo bile until the potion became a bright red colour. After that, the bile needed to be remixed until yellow - not dark green, as Neville soon found out, losing twenty points - and so on until the mixture turned ended up a dark orange.

Harry finishing his in record time and earning a near discernible smile from Snape, leaned back in his chair to read about what he had just successfully brewed. Apparently, it could be used as a counteragent to the Confundus charm, which meant 'to confuse'.

His first experience with the potion was in his fourth year, shortly after the second task during the Triwizard Tournament. Harry remembered how he had purposefully spilled his boomslang skin in order to listen in on what Igor Karkaroff - Headmaster of Durmstrang, in Bulgaria - had to say to Snape. He couldn't for the life of him remember what that was, however, and was interrupted by the chime that signalled the beginning of lunch period.

Putting his book back in his bag and bottling up his potion, Harry left with a small parting smile to both Draco and Snape, who nodded discreetly in acknowledgement.

After lunch, which Harry quickly wolfed down, he had Herbology.

Walking outside, pulling his cloak tighter around himself to ward off the biting cold, he bumped into Malfoy, who was suspiciously alone.

"Hey." Harry offered up a small smile. "How's it going?"

"Hello, Harry. It's 'going' very well thank you. How about yourself?" Is we you have a new friend."!he gestured to Emrys, who was wound around Harry's left wrist, head raised and tongue flicking out, smelling his keeper's secret lover.

*Smells good... Pure. Keep him,* and the snake retreated into Harry's sleeve, away from the chill.

*I will.* Harry smiled a secret smile before locking eyes with Draco, who was looking slightly uncomfortable. *What?* "I mean... What?" Asked Harry, blushing as he tried to cover his Parseltongue slip up.

"Harry... That-that's fucking hot."

"...It is?" Harry was perplexed. Never before had he been told his speaking parseltongue was 'hot'.

"It is. Say something else."Malfoy demanded.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, looking around to check no one was listening or seeing he and Draco together.

"I, uh..." *I love you.* It was the only way he could say it - not being understood by anyone else other that Emrys.

"Merlin. I'd like to kiss you senseless right now - would, if we weren't in such a public place, in fact.

"Then let's find somewhere private. Quidditch stands?"

"Yes, but... Don't you have classes to attend?" Draco queried, peering at Harry with a sideways glance as they headed, side by side, to the nearest stand - Slytherin's.

"Who cares? I'd rather have lessons with Malfoy than Sprout, thanks."

Draco laughed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. "Hm. I could get used to that. Professor Malfoy to you, Mr. Potter. If only we were in the bedroom..."

Harry blinked, surprised at Draco's audacity. Spluttering, he stared at the other boy, who's eyes glimmered in a teasing manner. "The look on your face, Potter!" And he doubled over, freely laughing, warm breath sending clouds into the frozen air.

When he'd composed himself, he took Harry by the hand, seemingly no longer caring if people saw. "Seriously though..." He dragged him up to the top of the platform where he sat, pulling Harry with him, and snogged him senseless.


	12. Resorting

Sorry for the late update - a lot has been going on. This is quite short due to needing to just post so, here ya go!

I'm not JKR, nor will I even be her.

Onwards!

Chapter 11 - Resorting

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed when at last they came up for air. "Where'd you learn that?"

"The mirror," was Draco's teasing, if not slightly obnoxious reply.

Diving right back in, Draco caught Harry's warm mouth with his own, taking ownership of the kids. "I-..." Harry spluttered, drawing away.

"Shut up and kiss me Potter." And the battle of tongues reigned on - for about half an hour - with intermittent breaks for air.

Walking back up to the school, having just sat together and talked for the last hour and a half - after dragging themselves away from each other - Harry told Draco of the plan for his imminent resorting. "Well we'd better hurry up then! It starts in ten minutes you fool."

Now running, the two boys made it to the Great Hall with two minutes to spare.

"Uh... Harry?" Came Draco's tentative voice as they barged through the doors.

Harry, ever oblivious, turned to his companion with a smile. "Yeah?"

"We-we're kinda the centre of attention right now." The blond boy then ducked to hide behind the other, cheeks flushing a pretty pink.

Finally getting the hint, the emerald eyed boy faced forward, into a crowd of avidly curious students. Harry was used to being stared at, but Draco - not so much.

"Why're they looking at us?"

"Because we're together, idiot!" Draco whispered fiercely, swatting Harry on the back of the head and moving to push past the boy to take his seat at the Slytherin table.

"Oh. Right... Yeah." The boy looked downtrodden and suddenly bereft. "I guess they would be." And, turning, he walked to the front of the hall where an incredulously pleased Mcgonagall stood waiting, Sorting Hat placed upon a small, unsturdy looking wooden stool, usually used for tiny first years.

Harry focussed on her, trying his hardest not to look up at the Head Table where he was sure to lock eyes with a seated Dumbledore, seething and plotting bloody murder.

"Mr. Potter. If you'd like to take a seat?" The rigid witch motioned towards the stool, which Harry gladly took a seat on, plopping down heavily on it after lifting the hat, turning his back on his professors. He could still feel the heat of the headmaster's glare though. Harry shivered.

Placing the hat on his head, Harry heard the murmurings of the should-be inanimate object.

"Hm. Back again are we, Mr. Potter? I see you've acquired a few enemy's and a new... Friend. Now where should it be? Hufflepuff... No, that wouldn't work. Stay in Gryffindor? You'd die as soon as you removed me. I know - better be... SLYTHERIN!"

A startled silence filled the room, with Professor Snape starting a slow clap, which soon turned into a raucous applause from the Slytherins, starting with Malfoy, and a more tentative congratulations from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Gryffindors could be heard shouting celebratory 'yes's' and 'I knew he was a snake all along's'.

Slytherin welcomed their new comrade with open arms. As Harry walked over to his new house, charming his robe crest on the way, he could be seen being pat on the back as he walked past, taking his seat beside Draco, who was still clapping fervently and smiling from ear to ear.

"Thank Merlin! I was so worried, Harry."

"Me too. I still am - I'm absolutely top of his hit list now," Harry said with a small, troubled frown, glancing quickly back towards the old man at the centre of the leading table.

Later that day, as he was on his way to his Care of Magical Creatures class, he was intercepted.

Dumbledore, who Harry now knew as Gelert Grindelwald, stood before him, seemingly calm. "Harry, if I may have a word, my boy?" He asked.

Harry knew better. "Actually sir, i was on my way to class. Can it wait?"

"I'm afraid it cannot, Mr. Potter. I have some... Urgent information i need to discuss with you. Alone," he added as he saw Harry looking around for his friends.


	13. To Burn the Soul

It was a long walk up to the Headmaster's office. The Gargoyle, a pasty grey dragon looking fixture, jumping out of the way as soon as Grindelwald approached, gave Harry a commiserating look as he passed.

"After you, dear boy." The elder motioned towards the door with an aging hand.

Harry, very aware this was a trap, politely declined. "No thank you Sir. It is, after all, your office."

A glare was all he received for his efforts, and the headmaster, waving his arm towards the door, opening it with an almighty BANG, shoved Harry through the door.

"NO!" He was thrust through fire, burning his legs as he fell to his knees. "Please." A sob escaped him as the room shrank around him, enclosing him, reminding him of the cupboard under the stairs, only this time, encased in red hot flames.

A loud, echoing voice resounded around the room. "This is your punishment, Potter. For betraying me – betraying the light – you will suffer. You will LEARN." The door to the office slammed shut, leaving Harry alone, flames creeping closer and closer.

 _It burned. Everything hurt. His mind, his soul, scorched by the flames. "Help!"_

"Harry. I'm here Harry. Open your eyes, close your mind. He can't get you here."

Malfoy manor was a very solemn place to be, yet Harry, sensing where he was, relaxed. "You're safe, child. Hush…"

He didn't even notice the tears as they crept down his face, a waterfall of pain and fear. _"Help…"_

"Harry, open your eyes." Lucius Malfoy watched on, his impassive facial expression not belying his anxiety, as Severus held the boy in his arms, patting his cheek and talking quietly to his unconscious form.

"Oh for Merlin's sakes, man. Ennervate!" Lucius could stand to watch no more, as he stormed over to the duo, wand slashing through the air as his patience hit its limit.

Harry woke with a cough, or rather, a coughing fit. The smoke on his lungs caused a new stream of tears to make their way down his pale face, and he hastened to wipe them away, not to be seen as weak before the Malfoy patriarch.

"Hurts…" another cough rattled his lungs as he struggled to sit, pushing Severus' arms off himself. "Fuck. I swear I'm gonna kill that fucker."

"Language, please Harry," Severus corrected without any heat. "And yes, I do agree. His death at your hands would be most satisfactory."

"They weren't normal flames, Sir. They hurt my soul…" He broke off, feeling stupid.

"Adolebitque Animam – to burn the soul. Can you still feel the pain, child?" Lucius approached now, feeling it safe to do so. The boy wasn't going to hex the place to pieces just now.

"No, it… my head just feels tired now, Mr. Malfoy." The weariness in the boy's voice broke both men's hearts.

"Then I'm glad. That could have ended very badly." The blond haired man sat heavily in a chair, motioning for Harry to take one for himself.

"Thank you, sir." He took the hint. "How did you know where I was… what had happened?"

"The Weasley's have a map. It shows where everyone who resides in the castle is. I knew of it because it was the Marauders for our school days, so I simply summoned it and looked for you," Severus interrupted, taking a seat himself and pouring a fingerful of Firewhisky for each of them.

"Thank you," Harry eyed the potions master. "You didn't have to, you know."

"I know I didn't _have_ to, but I did. I care, Harry. You need to get used to that, and yes," he raised a stalling hand, "I know you are not used to that, but at some point you will be. I shall make sure of it."

"So what's the plan then? How are we going to get him?"

"We wait until our Lord calls the final battle, then… who knows?" Midnight chimed on the old grandfather clock in the Malfoy's foyer.

"Well, okay then. Can we go back now? Please? I'm tired." And Harry looked it. Usually blazing green eyes were dull, parted lips chapped from sudden temperature change and hair frazzled, he looked a mess.

Severus nodded, agreeing with the boy. He too, was exhausted. "May we use your floo, Lucius?"

"Of course, old friend. Your chambers, I hope?"

"Indeed. Goodnight Lucius. Harry?" The onyx eyed man nodded to Lucius before grabbing a handful of the green powder, throwing it down and exclaiming 'Snape's quarters, Hogwarts.' He was quickly followed by a very tired looking Harry, who was promptly sent to bed in Severus' spare room, dismissed with a 'Goodnight, Harry' and a parting hug.


End file.
